Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind
by SmilinStar
Summary: ‘Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.’ Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .
1. Chapter 1

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Okay so the Ugly Betty plot bunnies are continuing to wreak havoc, not entirely helpful when I have _exams_ to concentrate on, oh and an unfinished House fic, which I am determined to complete. This, by the way, was an on the spur of the moment thing, which was supposed to be a one-shot but has somehow morphed into a multichap fic, grr, and I can only hope it isn't as terrible as I think it is . . .

**Chapter One**

It was quite simply getting beyond ridiculous now. But no matter how many times she attempted to shake some sense into her hopelessly wistful heart, Christina's words would always find themselves floating in front of her eyes in neon shades of pink and green;

"He's in love with you Betty," she had said. And that wasn't all; apparently everyone knew – she was just too blind to see it. "I'd get some new glasses, that might help," Christina had then proceeded to drunkenly advise.

But Betty had stopped listening at this point. Her thoughts instead frozen on the impossibility that one Daniel Meade was supposedly in love with _her. _Of course she did the only sane thing possible; she laughed. And laughed some more. Drank down half a bottle of cheap wine and then laughed again.

"No way," she had muttered repeatedly in the back of their shared cab all the way home. Christina wasn't really in the right state of mind to notice her friend was also slowly losing her marbles, one seeping out after another. After all, the cab driver was one stunning man, and after several shots of vodka it's not as if she paid any attention to that horrendous moustache and terrible shirt.

And so as Betty's world continued to spin around her, Christina continued to flirt for all of Scotland. Truth be told, it wasn't as if she could help Betty much anyway. Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you?

And in her drunken haze, she came to the following conclusion:

Prove it, of course.

What Betty hadn't expected when she'd come up with this absurd idea, however, was that in order to seek such proof, she really didn't have to do much at all.

With Christina's words constantly spinning around in her head in dizzying circles every moment of every day, she just began to _notice_ things.

And it all started that first Monday morning back at Mode after Christina's revelation.

Betty felt like she was dying. Her head was throbbing, she'd already thrown up several times down the toilet pan that morning and now she was dragging herself into work looking like death itself.

Amanda had raised her perfectly sculpted brows in complete synchrony as Betty had stumbled her way out of the elevator and past the reception desk. Surprisingly, she had nothing to say as she continued to file her nails in silence.

Betty thanked god for small mercies as she collapsed into her chair.

She squinted up at her poorly patched up purple bunny and groaned, her head dropping back down onto the table, resting in the crook of her elbow.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been like that, and that was more than likely the probable result of her having fallen asleep at her desk.

Meanwhile, Daniel had walked in only a half hour after her. He had initially walked right past her, obviously in a rush, papers in hand, throwing a quick "Good morning Betty," her way. Of course, having not got his usual cheery reply, Daniel had stopped in his tracks, turned back around and proceeded to gawk at her sleeping (and snoring) form.

"Betty?" he called.

She didn't stir.

He walked closer, stopping right beside her, "Betty?" he called again.

Nothing.

He crouched down beside her. Amusement flickering through his eyes, and without further thought he found himself reaching out and brushing several stray strands of her hair out of her face. He tucked them gently behind her ear and then whispered softly,

"Betty, wake up."

"No," Betty murmured into the sleeve of her shirt.

Daniel nudged her a little more, a small smile creeping across his face, "Wake up."

And she did. Painfully slowly and not without protest. Her eyes opened and the first thought that popped into her hung over head was that Daniel's face was far too close to her own. And once she'd managed to focus her bleary eyes; she realised he was looking at her like . . . like . . .

Damn. She really _hated _Christina; why the hell had she opened her mouth in the first place?

The smile on his face had soon morphed into concern and for that, Betty was grateful. She didn't think she could handle Daniel looking at her like _that_.

She must have looked like hell as she attempted to straighten up if Daniel's expression was anything to go by.

"Are you okay?" he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Betty croaked, straightening her red-rimmed glasses.

Incredulous, Daniel asked, "Have you been drinking?"

Betty groaned, "Last night, Christina, bar-" That was as much of a coherent sentence Daniel was going to get out of her today.

Daniel shook his head bemused, and could only manage the word, "Seriously?"

Apparently he had uttered the word a little too loudly for Betty's over-sensitised eardrums, as she scowled up at him, "Volume, Daniel," she muttered, massaging her throbbing temples.

Pursing his lips together, Daniel stared down at Betty once more wondering just how in the world his normally oh so sensible assistant had managed to get herself into this predicament. With another shake of his head and mind set, he grabbed a hold of Betty's hand and tugged.

"Wha-"

She didn't even manage to spit out one word as Daniel said, "You're coming with me."

She followed haplessly with an entirely welcomed, if surprising, cessation of the pounding in her head as her focus switched to an altogether different sensation.

Daniel's hand was ridiculously warm, she realised.

It was freezing outside and the heating in the building was still taking its sweet time to reach its maximal efficiency; and so she found herself idly wondering how on earth he had warmed up so quickly. And it was only when she started thinking how comfortable and inexplicably _right_ it felt to have her hand wrapped tight in his, did the pounding in her head start up again with an unforgiving ferocity.

"We need to get you some coffee," Daniel was saying, "Some strong coffee," but she was hardly paying any attention.

Her thoughts had stopped and had stuck on one immutable design; and that was to simply hunt Christina down and wring her pretty little neck for putting stupid ideas into her head.

Ideas that were, quite frankly, absurd. Impossible and ridiculous, and based on no evidence whatsoever.

She stumbled into the elevator with him.

And that's when he turned, hand still holding hers tight, smiling a smile that would have lesser women melting into an untidy heap on the floor. And right now, Betty wondered if she was one of them.

Forget wringing Christina's neck, Betty was going to _murder _her.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

**A/N 2: **So what did you think? Worth continuing (even though updates may be slow)? Please review and let me know, feedback is wholeheartedly appreciated.

**SmilinStar **

**xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Wow. Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews (and for guilt-tripping me into updating sooner than I had expected to, lol). No, honestly, you guys are awesome and I can only hope you enjoy this chapter . . .

**Chapter Two**

"Feeling any better?" Daniel asked from across the table.

Three espressos and Betty was wired enough to climb Mount Everest bare foot. Was she feeling any better? Temporarily so, yes. Would it last? Unlikely.

"Much," she answered with a half-truth.

Daniel grinned, "Liar."

Betty attempted to mock glare at him but could only manage a grimace as the all too familiar pangs of her monstrous headache started to resurface.

Daniel's grin quickly fell from his face; concern flitting across his face again for what was possibly the seventeenth time in the space of twenty minutes.

They had stumbled their way across the Manhattan roads, and courtesy of Betty's hangover induced complete lack of coordination, had had the joyous benefit of being on the receiving end of a few choice expletives yelled from the filthy mouths of several irate cab drivers.

He had pulled her along the sidewalks, winding their way through the throngs of morning workers who were in too much of a rush to even notice the odd pair. She had grumbled the whole way – something about there being a coffee place much closer to the Meade Publications offices and being too tired to walk any further.

Daniel had only replied with, "The fresh air will help."

She may have been hung over but she wasn't brain dead enough to point out that the roads of Manhattan were hardly the best providers of 'fresh' air, not with the thousands of cars squashed together like sardines in a tin, churning out gallons of toxic, air polluting gases.

Daniel had merely shook his head, given her a peculiar smile and continued on with their marathon of a trek.

Once they'd got to their destination, however, Betty found she could hardly fault the man's taste. How he was aware of this quaint little coffee shop, tucked away and hidden behind the overpowering sky scrapers and dreary office buildings, she could hardly guess.

But the enticing smell of freshly made coffee soon put that thought on the back burner.

And now here they were. Three coffee cups later, and Daniel was still wearing the same expression he'd been sporting for so long that he was now endanger of permanently fixing his facial muscles as they were.

"Daniel I'm fine," she muttered through a sigh, jumping the gun on the question she was ninety nine point nine percent sure he was going to ask.

"Of course you are," Daniel nodded disbelievingly.

Betty decided to ignore the suggestion behind his tone and change the subject entirely, "Shouldn't we be getting back to work, I mean we've still got a lot to do to finalise next month's issue-"

But it seemed Daniel was going to have none of it as he quickly swept away her attempts to shift the spotlight from herself with a dismissive wave of the hand and the words, "We've got plenty of time."

But he didn't stop there; shifting slightly in his seat he asked, "So what exactly were you doing last night to get yourself such a monster of a hangover?"

Betty could feel the heat creeping up her neck and on to her cheeks, "Drinking."

Daniel let himself a small chuckle, "Why?"

"And why do I need a reason to go out and have fun once in while?"

"You don't," Daniel said, "But then it's not like you to drink yourself into oblivion."

_No, but it's not everyday you find out your boss is supposedly in love with you._

She was half tempted to spit those words out, but then the thought of the horror she would then have to face if Christina's little hypothesis was indeed correct, or worse, entirely wrong, shoved its way to the forefront of her mind, and she could only respond with an abominable lie:

"I was thinking about Henry."

She instantly recoiled as the words left her mouth; though she attempted to console herself with the fact it was partially true.

Henry had left for Tucson, bound for his baby and Charlie, nearly eight months ago. And she had succumbed to a state of mourning for nearly a month after that well calendared date, before it was Daniel in fact who, having had quite enough of her moping around, had forcibly attempted to shake her out of her melancholic catatonia.

He had planted himself outside her door at ten in the evening one night, and with all the tyranny he could muster, proclaimed they were going to a wedding and the only response available was one of wholehearted agreement.

There were numerous weddings crashed that night, sickening amounts of cake eaten, pizza and terrible karaoke and, last but not least, a 5am trip to Brooklyn Bridge. It was a repeat of _that_ night; only difference being the reversal of roles.

And she had laughed and she had smiled. And though she never wanted to admit it, she was pretty sure he had stolen just another tiny little piece of her broken heart as he had laughed along with her on that bridge.

And so yes; she had been thinking about Henry. It was a ridiculous fact that she would always find herself wondering just what her life would be like now if Henry had made a different choice then. She supposed she used to think her life would feel just that little more complete, and as sappy as it sounded, as if that elusive 'something' wasn't missing. But it had struck her last night, amidst the gulping down of shots of vodka and bottles of wine, and as Christina's words had swam mercilessly in her brain, when theoretically her thoughts should have been an uncomprehending blur, it had struck her that she no longer felt that way. Henry had become lost in a crowd of hazy faces and she found she no longer missed him.

She supposed she had the man sat right in front of her to thank for that.

The man who had told her that time healed all wounds; that of all people he should know, having had first hand experience, and that she would move on. As hard as it was to imagine, when the time was right and when she'd least expect it: _he _would be there.

The words buzzed around in her ears as she watched a flicker of sadness dim his eyes and a small, barely audible, sigh leave his lips.

And then with a grace she hadn't expected, he seamlessly landed his coffee cup on the table, stood up and then, as she watched wide eyed, reached out and offered her his hand.

"Come on," he said, soft, gentle and oddly undemanding.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't hesitate.

Her hand grasped his tight, and though she had no idea where he was leading her this time; she found she didn't care.

**A/N 2: **I realise this chapter wasn't quite as light as the first one, but it was necessary and anyway, whatever Mr Plot Bunny says, I do, because I'm hopeless like that, I really am. Please review and let me know your thoughts on this chapter, because I, personally, am not really sure what to make of it.

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Once again, thank you so much to everyone who left me such wonderful reviews. Reviews make me obscenely happy and are greatly appreciated. So here's chapter three, and I hope you like it . . .

**Chapter Three**

She stood there with her mouth hanging open, most definitely unattractive but it couldn't be helped, after all it was rather miraculous that he had remembered this _exact_ location, _this_ exact spot, which she herself had long forgotten.

Guilt was starting to bite and nip its way inside her, a prelude to the gnarling and gnashing that was sure to follow like the monstrous beast guilt really was. Daniel obviously still thought she was pining over Henry, and she felt awful at having misled him. But here they were, the feeling only heightening as her thoughts strayed to the unadulterated awe and gratitude she held for the man standing there beside her.

"Maybe it's time to say goodbye," Daniel spoke softly, his eyes firmly fixed on the earth beneath their feet. "Again," he added, a sad smile playing on his lips.

There was that bile rising up again in her throat as her stomach did a sick little twirl at his words.

"Daniel," she sighed, hesitating, attempting to formulate words in her tired brain. But Daniel didn't give her the luxury of time as he spoke again;

"I know its hard Betty, but you've got to let go. You've got to move on. For your own sanity's sake."

He turned and looked down at her. His blue eyes imploring her with a desperation that he barely managed to conceal. The only thought that seemed to fester in her mind as she caught and held his gaze was that maybe it wasn't the desperation of a friend wanting what was best for her, but maybe something else entirely, something implausible and ridiculous enough to back up those blasted words constantly hammering inside her head.

"Daniel," she said again, quiet and remarkably steady, "I let go of Henry months ago."

The response was instantaneous.

"What?" It was said with a deceptive calm, his mouth staying open momentarily, before he clamped it shut and gulped inaudibly, acclimatising to this new startling piece of information before trusting himself to speak again, "But last night-"

"Last night was never really about Henry," Betty answered his unvoiced question with a thankful truth.

"Oh."

"I'm over Henry," Betty said attempting a tentative smile, before adding in earnest, "You helped me more than you realise."

"I," Daniel cleared his throat as he shifted almost nervously on his feet, "I did?"

She nodded, watching him so intently and not quite realising she was doing so.

"Yeah," she turned her whole body to face him now, her left hand reaching up to push back her glasses, "You did. And I don't think I ever really properly thanked you for it."

"Well, I . . . there's no need Betty," he said, "I only did what you would do, did, for me."

And she didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the softest pink tinge of his cheeks, his nervous little laugh, the fact that he couldn't look her in the eyes as he spoke, how he constantly shifted on the spot and reached up and tugged his tie, not once, but twice; all those little things added together that caused a flurry and rush inside her like a flock of birds leaving the nest all at once for warmer climes. Or perhaps, her stomach doing several complex somersaults in a row may have done just as well as a metaphor; needless to say she was left winded and utterly overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions that had flitted across her synapses as she realised maybe, just maybe, there was a little truth to Christina's words.

Mustering up all of what was left of her reserves of courage and forcing her most recent realisations to the recesses of her mind, she somehow managed to give him her hundred watt smile just then, the metal glinting off her teeth in the midday sun, "Thank you Daniel."

And then she gave him only time enough to mouth the words "you're welcome" before she moved forward, catching him off guard as she reached up and hugged him tight.

Daniel took only seconds to reciprocate the gesture, and as his arms instinctively came around her, his hands winding their way around her waist, she found herself being crushed further against the length of his hard planes. His face was now buried in her hair and she could feel his hot breath on her nape. She was sure her heart had sped up sufficiently so that he could feel it through the thin material of his crisp white shirt, but even if he had, he said nothing, only responding to hold her more closely as he returned the embrace she had initiated. She felt so warm, illogically content and _loved._

She pulled back sharply.

A telling blush had now coloured her cheeks and she struggled to get her tangled emotions under control, "You know I'm feeling much better now, we should go back. They'll probably be wondering where we've got to."

A flash of disappointment and loss seemed to wash across Daniel's expression, but it was gone before it had truly registered with her.

He nodded, "You're right."

Betty nodded back, before sidestepping past him to lead.

She stopped not a few footsteps later, realising he hadn't followed. On turning back around she found him still stood there, staring down at the same spot of ground they had visited one night what seemed like an age ago; a night where she had symbolically laid Henry to rest; an idea born from the mind of the rather remarkable man standing there with her now. One niggling thought, however, remained. It had been pestering her this whole time and had finally managed to fight its way through to be entertained out loud.

"Daniel," she said returning once again to his side, "How did you remember this spot? I mean I couldn't even remember this exact location."

He looked up at her and a small grin spread across his face, "I didn't."

She frowned, "You mean-"

He shrugged, "It's roughly right. But come on, honestly Betty? I'm not _that_ good."

And then she laughed, wondering that maybe he really was that good, but just a little too embarrassed to admit it.

"Come one," she said – the two words he had spoken not one hour ago echoing around them both.

He gave her a small smile and a nod of the head as this time, she led, and he followed.

**A/N 2: **This chapter was a monster to write; so I can only hope it didn't disappoint. I would love to know your thoughts, so please leave a review. As always, feedback is cherished.

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Thank you, thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews. You guys make me so happy. Apologies for the wait, but I hope you like it . . .

**Chapter Four**

Christina had that smug look on her face again.

Betty folded her arms across her chest, glared back at her friend and said with an unexpected bite to the word, "What?"

Christina shook her head, trying her hardest to feign sincerity, "Nothing," she said, stabbing the mannequin in front of her with a pin – the fabric currently draped all over it being of the 'far too thin to wear respectably on its own' variety. "Nothing at all," she repeated.

The repetition of the words and the fact that the smile playing on her lips had not faltered in the least did nothing to curb Betty's suspicions.

"Christina?" Betty snapped, "What?"

Betty had returned back to Mode, only in time to realise that she and Daniel had spent nearly three hours together and it was already fast approaching lunch. Daniel had shrugged his shoulders and told her to take her break now since there wasn't much point in starting work and then stopping after ten minutes. Betty had reluctantly agreed, feeling illogically yet unsurprisingly guilty at having had such an unproductive morning.

She had made her way down to Christina in the Closet and had found her relentlessly attempting to pin together a flimsy piece of fabric that draped off the mannequin at odd angles. She was huffing in annoyance, muttering some Scottish obscenity, which Betty thankfully had zero familiarity with and therefore understanding of.

Christina had turned around, taken one look at her friend and the expression she was desperately trying not to wear so obviously, and asked, "What's going on?"

Betty having given up on any pretence of not looking as ruffled as she felt, sat down on one of the many seats dotted around the Closet, and spilt all. From the hours they had spent drinking coffee in that beautiful little coffee shop, to her little lie about Henry and then how Daniel had taken her to pay her respects at her former boyfriend's fake grave. The only thing she didn't bring up, was the stomach churning feeling and momentary disorientation that had been forced upon her when she had realised that the possibility Daniel was in love with her, wasn't quite as impossible as she had first thought.

But Christina was sharp enough to know that _that_ was in fact the crux of Betty's problems, even if she hadn't uttered a single word on the subject.

And so she sighed, throwing her arms up in the air as she turned around to face her clueless, bespectacled friend, realising she was going to have to spell it out for her, one letter after the other;

"He's in love with you, Betty."

Betty entirely flustered and so failing miserably at the appearance of nonchalance said, "You're not starting that up again, are you?"

She stood up from her seat, adamantly trying to persuade her friend, and perhaps even herself, "Daniel is not in love with me. It's stupid and ridiculous."

"Oh okay," Christina shrugged exasperated, "As ridiculous as the fact he willingly spent three hours with you beside a faux grave symbolising the lost love of your life, one Henry Grubstick?"

"He was just being a good friend. And it was not three hours."

Turning back around, Christina stabbed the faceless mannequin in front of her with more pins several times in frustration, "Oh Betty" she growled, "You're smarter than that-"

"Exactly!" Betty exclaimed almost as if having proven some universally unsolvable puzzle, "Exactly, I'm smart enough to know that a man like Daniel could never be in love with someone like _me._"

"Someone like _you_?" Christina repeated; mouth agape. She turned back around, and then marched forward with all the theatrics of a pantomime fairy Godmother, and quite literally shook her friend by the shoulders, "Now you listen here Betty Suarez, any man would be lucky to have you. And hell, Daniel probably doesn't even deserve you."

Touched as she was, Betty was still as unconvinced as she had been when Christina had first slurred the words to her that night at the bar. She collapsed back into the chair she had been stood in front of and groaned, "This is ridiculous," she muttered, head in hands, "This whole conversation is ridiculous."

Christina looked down at her; a rare moment of utter seriousness flashing across her face as she said, "So why does it bother you so much?"

Betty looked up at her through parted hands.

She didn't have an answer but it seemed it had been only rhetorical on Christina's part as the Scottish seamstress then came out with the most unexpected of words;

"Ask him," she said

"Ask him what?" Betty returned.

"Ask him how he feels about you."

Betty scoffed, "I'm not going to do that! Are you completely insane?"

Christina shrugged, "You'll never know unless you try."

Betty shook her head, "No." She stood up, paced a little, and muttered the word, "No," again and with a little more resolve.

She stopped still, nodded her head as she reaffirmed to herself and Christina that she was not going to ask Daniel if he was in fact in love with her, and then turned and left the Closet and a somewhat deflated and defeated Christina.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Betty had somehow made her way back to her desk; the operative word being 'somehow.'

She had been watching her feet as she walked; her mind lost to the wandering paths of sweet words, an undying hope that she could not fathom and which refused to be subdued, and most distracting of all, the bluest, most beautiful of eyes that seemed to watch her every step. It was no small wonder that she had nearly bumped into every member of staff that had crossed her path and it was even more surprising that the _one_ person she _would_ careen head first into, would be _him_.

A muted "oomph" left her lips, only to be smothered by his shirt and perhaps more specifically, his lean, hard chest.

She was sure she could feel her heart thumping away in her ears as she stumbled back.

"Whoa, Betty," Daniel laughed, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he steadied her. His hand was warm, like it always was, and Betty wondered if the man always had a core body temperature several degrees above normal. It explained a lot. He was always hot . . . not _hot_ hot. Not that he wasn't hot, because, well, he was . . .

Positive she was turning a lovely shade of red, she cursed her mind's inability to switch off for even two seconds and give her that much needed time to process things. Only _small_ things, like why on earth she was suddenly paying attention to _trivial _things such as her boss' aesthetics and physical attributes.

Once again, she found herself cursing Christina.

Stuck in another daze, Daniel's concerned voice waded in through the tangle of her thoughts, "Betty?" he said, "Are you ok?"

She nodded dumbly, "Fine. I'm fine."

He raised a brow, entirely sceptical, "You sure?"

"_Ask him." _There was Christina's voice in her head again, _"Ask him how he feels about you."_

"Daniel," she said with a suddenness that made him frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Betty said, her heart thumping away in her chest, perilously close to ditching its normal sinus rhythm, "I just-"

Daniel's hand had left her shoulder as he moved to put on the coat that he had held in his other hand. Betty hadn't even noticed.

Mindlessly she helped him pull it on, tugging it around to the front, doing up one of the buttons, "I was just wondering-"

The coat finally registered in her brain, as she then asked, with no regard to what she had been trying, and failing miserably, to ask initially, "Where are you going?"

Daniel gave her an odd look, a fleeting smile that soon resurfaced; coy and unmistakeably unsure of himself, "I've got a date."

To any other casual observer, it was plain as daylight that Daniel was trying to gage her reaction, but Betty was ever oblivious.

"Oh," was all she could manage, "As in a _date _date?"

Daniel nodded, "Yeah."

"Oh," Betty said again before she pushed back her glasses and attempted her poorest smile yet, "Well uh, have fun."

"I will," Daniel returned the smile, just as lacking in sincerity - not that she realised.

"Well if that's all," he said.

Betty nodded.

Daniel nodded back.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," Betty repeated in her dumbfounded haze.

And with nothing left to say, Betty turned back to her desk, and Daniel left her; rounding the corner, and finally, disappearing from view.

**A/N 2: **So this fic seriously has a mind of its own. Now I'm all for autonomy and Bunny Rights, but it would be nice if the plot bunnies gave me a heads up once in a while. And despite my crazy ramblings, I hope you guys are still reading and enjoying, and once again, as always, I would love to know your thoughts. Cheers.

**SmilinStar **

**xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Once again I am overwhelmed by your kindness. Your reviews are so lovely and gratefully received – so thank you ever so much. I also wanted to say that a few readers have suggested that I write a chapter from Daniel's POV. Now, trust me when I say, that I myself have been grappling with the urge to write from Daniel's POV, because well angsty Daniel is just too darn fun to write, but this story is really about Betty's journey and discovery – and if I write from Daniel's POV, it'll give it all away. I'm sorry if that disappoints because I really don't want to disappoint you wonderful people, but I'm going to stick to my original plans and hopefully you'll all enjoy it anyway. Okay, enough of the rambling . . .

**Chapter Five**

She honestly didn't know why it was bothering her so much.

Her sleepless night had only been followed by several hours spent awake, eyes wide open, unmoving, rarely blinking, as morning light filtered its way through the net curtains of her bedroom window. Her brain had failed to switch off, thinking a mile a minute on a fast speed train that showed no inkling of slowing down any time soon.

She was vaguely aware that her alarm clock had rung nearly an hour ago; her hand having reached out to thwack the off button like an automaton programmed for the repetitive and mundane, only to return back to her zombified state of staring up at the ceiling.

Her father had called her to breakfast fifteen minutes ago but she hadn't moved a muscle. Her energy being zapped by her brain as she tried to figure out why Daniel's impromptu and previously unannounced date last night was bothering her like a pesky mosquito that refused to take 'die' for an answer.

'_Why does it bother you so much?'_

She was way past the point of wanting to throttle Christina and her recent new pastime of stalking her sleeping and waking thoughts with aggravatingly loaded yet innocently spoken words. But she had to concede this much – that particular question was a fair one.

_Why indeed._

The only feeling she could tap into and unwillingly admit to - her emotions playing with her and making this that much harder - was a lingering, unwanted and aching disappointment. Her wandering mind desperately clamoured for the suggestion that disappointment equalled jealousy; and in a convoluted yet crystal clear circle, it all made perfect sense.

This much was obvious; Christina was _wrong. _

Daniel was not in love with her – his date with another nameless, faceless, leggy blonde model made that doubtlessly plain. And if, as logic argued, she was disappointed, it meant she was disappointed by the fact that Daniel _wasn't_ in love with her; and if that truly were the case, the only logical conclusion was that she had _wanted_ it to be true.

The uncomfortable, ever present, searing sensation that burned and bubbled away inside her finally had a name.

Jealousy.

Oh yes. _That _ugly word, perpetually tinged in a sickly green hue – the incredible Hulk of all emotions.

She groaned out loud as she pushed away her bed covers; and with a pointless moan of protestation she clambered out of bed.

She knew she was running late but that didn't make her legs move any faster in the general direction of the shower as she slowly lifted her glasses onto her face, the plastic red temples partly tangling in her disarray of dark hair before she felt them fit snugly behind her ears.

And when she had finally forced herself to move from her spot many minutes later, she realised she may as well have had the words 'denial plus avoidance equals one spineless chicken' scrawled across her forehead for the entire world to gawk at.

She groaned again.

Today was going to be a long day.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

"You're late."

"Yes thank you, Amanda," Betty sniped, uncharacteristically sullen and irritable, not that the blonde receptionist before her was truly paying any attention anyway, "I know how to tell the time."

"Really?" Amanda smirked, it could have been a smile but as was always the case with Amanda, it was near impossible to tell, "So why are you _late_?" All the emphasis was on that four damned letter word.

Betty huffed, turning and making her way round the circular white desk, "I don't think it's any of your business."

Amanda shrugged, "Maybe not. But it's definitely Daniel's."

She was hopeless. She really was. Being such an easy target, so easily played; if it was any other day she may have felt slightly ashamed – but today wasn't that day;

"What?"

Now that smirk made a seamless transition to catty smugness. And Betty was fast losing what was left of her patience, "Amanda?"

"Daniel's been tearing down the entire building looking for you and," she stopped for unnecessary pause and a lame attempt to build the tension, "he's not happy."

The front desk phone rang just then, Amanda gave Betty one last sneering smile and picked up the phone.

Betty took an instinctive deep breath in and took a few steps forward in the direction of Daniel's office. She gave Amanda one last look over her shoulder and with just enough time to see her draw one slickly painted finger across her neck and then wind it casually, deliberately, around the coiled telephone cord.

Betty shook her head.

Amanda was just teasing her. Like always.

Daniel couldn't be that mad at her for being an hour . . . two hours late.

Ok so maybe he could.

Unless it had absolutely nothing to do with her – maybe his date last night had gone disastrously wrong. She was momentarily stunned by the hope and distinct lack of guilt of thinking such thoughts that coursed through her. She wanted Daniel to be happy, she really did; and so her sudden aberrant flash of unsavoury yearning left her treacherously off kilter.

She rounded the corner slowly; her desk coming into view, her eyes, however, drawn instead to the large window that separated her from Daniel.

And to the man himself.

He wasn't sat at his desk.

He was standing.

With his back to her, staring out the window – his arms folded across his chest, the back of his blue shirt stretching between his shoulders blades, the fabric held taut.

Betty inaudibly, unconsciously gulped; her focus intent and unwavering on the ripples of blue fabric.

Glued to the spot, she was overwhelmed with a strange rush of emotion; the kind of feeling that made her pulse erratic, made it hard for her to breathe, and the kind that made her palms sweat uncontrollably.

She couldn't move.

_He's in love with you._

She realised then, that though those words were false, it didn't distract from the real truth of the matter.

And though she had no idea when exactly it had happened, how she had been idiotic enough to _let_ it happen, she realised that it didn't truly matter anyway.

It wasn't as if she could save herself now. It was too late. No one could save her. Not really.

The only person who could was _him_.

And he didn't love her.

Not the way she did him.

He saw her then. Turning away from whatever had kept him transfixed outside that large window, his eyes had somehow found hers through the glass pane of another.

She held his gaze. She couldn't have been sure but something akin to relief had flickered in his blue eyes, along with another emotion she couldn't quite place.

He moved out of sight a second later, only to reappear shortly outside his office door, taking a number of determined steps closer, "Betty?"

"Hi," she said, throat parched.

He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, "Where have you been?" he let out in a rush, "I was worried."

With that little admission she was sure the mini cheering squad inside her had erupted in a fitful dance of unadulterated joy.

"I overslept."

Daniel frowned, "You could have rung."

Betty nodded, "I know. I'm sorry."

He sighed, smiled sadly before clearing his throat, "I need you to contact these people for next month's main feature spread," he handed her the piece of paper he had had scrunched up in his hand.

Betty nodded as she reached out to take the paper from him, her fingers ever so slightly brushing past his as she did.

She pulled away; the smallest, tiniest stretch of skin burning.

"Anything else?" she managed to ask, somehow keeping her pitch level.

"No that's all."

"Ok."

Daniel gave her one last look before turning away.

She didn't know what compelled her to blurt it out like word vomit, but there it was:

"How did your date last night go?"

Daniel turned back around, "Great," he grinned back at her.

She almost believed him, _almost_, but like the sneaky bastard it really was, it glittered in his eyes – the lack of emotion, conviction – a lie – hidden masterfully from an indifferent casual observer, but when subjected to someone as emotionally as invested as she was, _hope_ didn't have a chance in hell of disappearing without a fight.

She smiled, bright and genuine, "Good. I'm glad."

**A/N 2:** Okey dokey then, a strange chapter I realise, and there weren't any massive leaps on the Daniel/Betty front, but there was hopefully enough there to make you happy – after all, Betty is no longing basking in the sun-baked land of Daniel Denial (omg, they're anagrams of each other, so cool . . . ahem); that's got to be good news right?

As always, I eat, sleep reviews. Please let me know your thoughts – I value every word,

**SmilinStar **

**xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **A massive thank you, hugs and cookies to everyone who is reading and reviewing this little fic of mine. I'm astounded at the response this is having and am so very grateful. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter . . .

**Chapter Six**

"Helloooo. Earth to Betty."

Christina was waving her hand frantically in front of her face, but Betty remained as she was; sat on a chair in the Closet, hands clasped in her lap, unblinking.

"Oh look, Brad Pitt's just walked in – shirtless."

No response.

"Make that completely and utterly starkers-"

"I'm in love with him."

"Get in line girlie – half the world's female population still to go after Angelina."

"Huh. What?" Betty opened her mouth, finally staring up at her friend.

Christina frowned, "What are you . . . _who_ are you talking about?"

Cheeks a now pleasantly red ripe tomato, no extra blusher needed, Betty looked down at her hands and sighed before making it official;

"Daniel."

There was silence.

She thought maybe the shock had at last shut Christina's incessantly open trap permanently. She lifted her head, chancing a glance to confirm her suspicions. What she hadn't been prepared for, however, was the downright ecstatic grin plastered wide across her face.

"I knew it," she said, "I just knew it."

Betty folded her arms across her chest, "You could have told me," she replied petulantly.

Christina scoffed, "As if you would have believed me Betty. You would have shoved me into a mental asylum, locked me in solitary, and then buried the key in my fake grave right next to Henry's."

Betty didn't even deny it, "This is so bad," she said, burying her head in her hands; a motion that was fast becoming far too familiar and would soon be engraved eternally in muscle memory, "So very bad."

"Why?" Christina said, throwing her arms out, "You're in love with him. He's in love with you. It's win-win."

Betty shook her head, the quiet words tumbling out of her mouth, "He had a date last night."

The grin on Christina's face all but disappeared, which only helped Betty's heart sink further down the growing deep dark hole inside her.

"He's not in love with me," Betty repeated the words aloud – the words that had been spinning in her head, gleefully wreaking havoc with her mind and inflicting undeserved pain.

But damn _hope _was stubborn; fighting hard with logic and rationality, gripping impossibly hard to one thought like a lifeline, "but he lied."

"About what?" Christina asked taking a seat next to her.

"About how his date went," Betty said.

Christina was uncharacteristically silent, prompting Betty to turn her head and stare at her friend. She seemed to be deep in thought, a crease folding along her forehead – Betty could almost see the clockwork ticking inside.

"What if that's not all he was lying about?" Christina said as the epiphany she was searching for finally came within her grasp.

Betty sported a thoroughly confused expression, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Christina said, shifting on her seat, excitement flaring up in her eyes, "What if he lied about actually even _having_ a date?"

"No," Betty shook her head vehemently, disgusted and shocked at the suggestion of him concocting such a fabrication, "No Daniel wouldn't do that. He would never lie so blatantly. And why the hell would he lie about having a date – to me, of all people."

Christina had _that _particular look on her face again.

"Oh no. No, no, no; don't start that again."

"What?" Christina shrugged with all the ingenuousness of an innocent passer-by, standing on the sidelines, watching the drama unfold in front of her – whether fake or not, she was damn convincing.

"Oh you know what," Betty snapped.

"Fine," Christina huffed, "If you don't want to believe me when I say the man is head over heels in love with you, so much so that he faked a date just to get a reaction from you, so be it. You're just asking for years of heartache and misery – and it'll be your own damn fault."

The frustrated seamstress' unexpectedly biting rant left Betty stunned in silence.

"Do something about it," Christina implored; voice steady, quiet and unnervingly serious.

And then she stood up, leaving Betty alone to mull over her words.

And they stayed with her for the rest of the day. It didn't matter what she sat there and typed, her computer screen had happily taken to endorsing anarchy of the most traitorous kind. She couldn't escape the words.

Words, words, bloody words.

'Daniel had lied' is what glared back at her. The black _Times New Roman _print taunting her against stark white, 'Daniel had lied about everything.'

And so as 5 o' clock loomed near, Betty found herself taking in a deep breath, walking the short distance over to Daniel's office and rapping once against the already open door.

His head shot up instantly from his intent perusal of this month's layout, his gaze fixing on hers, a small smile gracing his lips, his eyes brightening just a little, but enough.

Betty felt something unnameable coil in the pit of her stomach at being on the receiving end of such a display of genuine affection, "Hey," she said entering the room.

"Hey, are you heading home?"

Betty nodded, "Only if there's nothing else you need me to do."

Daniel shook his head, "No, I think we're done for today."

"Ok."

She may have nodded the word as well as saying it out aloud, but she hadn't moved from her spot.

"So what was her name?"

Daniel raised a brow, surprised, "Whose?"

"You know," Betty answered, taking a few more steps into the office, "Your date last night?"

He shifted in his seat – it didn't go unnoticed.

"Jenny."

"Jenny?"

"Jenny Jones."

Now Betty raised a brow, "Jenny Jones?" _How very_ _original._

"Yeah," Daniel replied, a bare trace of steadily rising panic underlying the indignantly uttered word, "Why?"

"No, it's nothing," Betty shrugged, "I just haven't heard of her, that's all."

"Yeah, well, she's a, uh, an accountant."

Betty wanted to grin as the words tumbled out of his mouth. She could see his thought processes flying furiously across his face, easily summarised by one profanity he just about managed to stop himself from obviously mouthing: 'shit.'

"An accountant?" Betty smiled knowingly. She could see her new pandering to repetition was starting to grate, but it was too damn fun, because well, Daniel was making it too damn easy.

An accountant? _Interesting._

Daniel nodded, "Yeah."

"Does she work for Mode?"

"No," Daniel shifted once again in his seat, and Betty almost felt guilty for making him so unbearably uncomfortable, but she figured Daniel deserved to squirm at least a little. Her suspicions, or rather Christina's surprisingly astute deductions, had in fact turned out to be true. Daniel had lied about the date. And she knew that now for certain with just one look at his woeful attempt to hide his guilt.

For once, Betty no longer had the urge to strangle Christina to death, but instead hug her senseless with wholehearted gratitude.

Her friend, though not the most likely candidate for providing sound advice, was right about something. If she wanted to know how Daniel truly felt about her; she was going to have to do something about it. There was no point sitting there pining and doing nothing. And quite simply put, it was not in her nature to just stand there, passive and inactive.

Her thoughts came full circle: she had to prove it – one way or the other.

"So how did you guys meet?"

"Um at a party – do you need me to call for the car to take you home?" he asked suddenly, not so deftly changing the subject of the conversation.

Betty smothered the smile that was desperate to make its presence known, "No that's ok," she waved the suggestion away, "I'll get a cab."

"You sure?" he said, standing, "I would give you a lift, except I'm not heading home just yet. I've got some stuff I need to sort through."

"If I didn't know any better Daniel, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me."

He looked horrified at the idea, "No," he floundered, "No, no, not at all. I just . . . I don't want to keep you; you look tired and it's been a crazy week . . ."

Betty smiled, "Relax Daniel. I'm kidding."

"Oh."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Daniel nodded, "Yeah."

Betty gave him a smile before heading for the door. She almost heard him exhale a small breath of relief as she left; and so quite naturally, she found she just couldn't help herself as she stopped, turned around and said,

"You know, I'd really love to meet Jenny. The three of us should get together and have dinner one night – what do you think?"

She had to give Daniel props for hiding the grimace so well as he half choked the words, "Sounds like a great idea."

She gave him another one of her big grins, "Great. Leave it to me."

And then she left him in his office – a perfectly dastardly, manipulative, and as unBetty-like as they came, plan forming in her head.

**A/N 2: **Okay so I'm kind of back to where I had originally planned to go with this fic, but I won't hold my breath that it'll stay on course since those damn plot bunnies are feisty little buggers, and they will be heard, damn it! . . . Ahem. Hope you liked this chapter; personally, I'm quite excited about sneaky!Betty. Let me know what you think. As always, reviews are welcomed and the bunnies need carrots. In simple maths: reviews equal carrots. Cheers,

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Wow the response to the last chapter had me churning out this one faster than I had expected. Thank you for the reviews – I always knew feedback was a great motivator. Hope you guys enjoy this one . . .

**Chapter Seven**

Her fingers drummed nervously on the spotless dark wood table; the red wine in her glass sloshing around the rim with her agitated movements.

Her sight was drawn to the elegant grandfather clock at the far end of the restaurant. With the passing of another second, the minute hand had just reached the twelve mark. It was now eight o'clock and he was an hour late.

Surprisingly she was only on her second glass of wine for the night – she had decided to go ahead and order something to drink, because well, she needed something to calm her down. And besides Daniel said he would be paying for it. She had argued with him that they would split the bill, but Daniel was of course having none of it. The feminist in her was indignant, her current bank balance was thankful. That was she would be thankful, if he ever turned up, and she wasn't embarrassingly 'off her face' drunk by then.

She was well aware she was risking a huge gamble by even setting up this dinner.

She _knew _Daniel was lying about this Jenny Jones woman. But she just wanted to know how much further Daniel was willing to take this, and perhaps more importantly, _why _he had felt the need to construct such an elaborate lie in the first place – and maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the way, as she indulged in taking on the persona of one Sherlock Holmes, she'd figure out just what exactly her beautiful, blue eyed boss really thought of her.

The only problem was she honestly hadn't devoted the adequate time needed to think this entire thing through. Instead she had leapt head first into a scenario which could end oh so very badly. She was never one to make rash decisions like this and it was, quite frankly, very disconcerting.

She blamed Hilda and Christina. Their exuberant exclamations of joy at Betty's confession, their wholehearted support of her sneaky plans to expose Daniel and their downright creepy investment in her love life had meant they had shown no sign of playing devil's advocate or even trying to talk her out of this terrible plan. No, as far as 'Operation Prove Daniel is in love with Betty' was concerned, it was full steam ahead . . .

_**T minus Twelve Hours**_

_Hilda was sat on her bed, mouth hanging open and entirely incredulous – "Seriously?"_

_Betty grimaced. There was a reason she hadn't wanted to tell her sister. Love her she did, but Hilda had a particular penchant for shrieking when overexcited, and Betty's ears were still smarting from the high pitch assault. _

_But what it came down to, ultimately, was the simple fact she needed Hilda's help._

"_Yes seriously," Betty said, lowering the tone of the conversation – she could do without her father knowing for the moment. Protective Ignacio Suarez was fearsome at the very least, and whilst Betty had no qualms that her father did indeed like Daniel (a lot) – what did play on her mind, however, was what he would make of Daniel as potential boyfriend material. But then he was nothing remotely of the sort yet as Hilda's shrieking continued and made that fact quite clear with the added distinct tone of disbelief;_

"_You and Daniel?"_

"_Hilda will you please keep it down!" Betty snapped._

"_Seriously?"_

_Betty sighed, pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and shuffled back further in her bed, "I don't know. Maybe."_

"_But you're in love with him?"_

_She nodded._

_A grin spread across Hilda's face, wider than she had seen it in a very long time, "I knew it!"_

_Betty groaned, "If everyone knew, why the hell didn't you people say something?"_

_Hilda opened her mouth to retort, but Betty cut her of, "Yeah, yeah, I wouldn't have believed you – yeah you're probably right. It's ridiculous is what it is, though."_

"_Why?"_

"_Oh you know why!"_

"_You know," Hilda said, entirely serious, "The only person who really has a problem with this is you. I just can't understand why you can't see what everybody else sees."_

"_And what's that?"_

"_It doesn't matter what you look like, what dress size you are, what car you drive, where you eat dinner every night, hell if you even eat dinner at all; what matters is who you __are__. And Betty who __you__ are is someone smart, funny, kind and beautiful - someone who Daniel can a hundred percent fall in love with. You just have to let him."_

_Betty was silent; she was pretty sure a tear had just spilt over her lashes, her eyes blurring with the gathering of water behind her lids._

_Hilda gave her a great beaming smile, unmistakeably proud of her rather eloquent speech, and said unabashedly, "Damn, that was deep."_

_Betty gave her a wet little cough in return, which was quite possibly a laugh, before wiping the tears from her cheeks._

"_Ok so what do I do now?"_

_She was treated to another look of incredulity from her sister, "You go on this dinner date tonight, get Daniel to confess all, and then grab your man and live happily ever after," the perfunctory 'duh!' was silently tagged on to the end of her sentence – no sounding aloud required._

"_Tonight?" Betty half squeaked in horror, "That doesn't give me much time to prepare!"_

"_Prepare for what?" Hilda said, "Betty you could take a whole year and you'll still never be prepared. You've got to go for it, before you change your mind."_

_Scepticism flittered across her face, along with its troublesome companions, doubt and hesitation._

_With one firm hand on her shoulder, Hilda did her best to infuse a little resolve back into Betty's demeanour; "Go for it," she said again, firm and with no room for negotiation._

_Betty nodded. _

_She was really going to do this._

_**T minus Ten Hours**_

_He looked a little shell shocked._

_Almost as if he hadn't believed her when she had brought the subject up the day before. Almost as if he had believed she wasn't going to go ahead with it and was going to let him off the hook so easily._

_Her devious and entirely evil inner twin grinned – all her early morning fears were now a distant thought as she stared at him shifting nervously in his chair, his pen tapping against the paper in front of him, "Tonight?"_

"_Yep," Betty nodded, "I was thinking we should go to that new restaurant they've opened not far from here, you know the one we actually reviewed last month for Mode."_

_Daniel was just nodding mindlessly, not at all concentrating on what exactly it was she was saying. He had that glazed over look he sometimes had when she'd blather on about the insanity of models' diets, how dangerously skinny they were, etc, etc._

"_So I made reservations for seven for the three of us-"_

"_Three?" Daniel blinked. _

_Betty rolled her eyes, "You, me and Jenny."_

"_Jenny."_

"_Yeah, Jenny," Betty laughed._

"_Right," Daniel sighed, staring down first at his restless hands on top of his desk, and then finally at her, "Listen . . ."_

_Betty was positive her heart had just kick-started with an almighty thump, the force shuddering through her with that one particular word. He looked so serious, so terrified and she had to wonder whether this was it. Whether this was the moment she'd been waiting for, the moment when he would come clean about everything._

"_Listen Betty, about . . ."_

_She was half tempted to scream, 'Just say it, damn it!' but she somehow managed to settle for a calm expression that softly urged him to continue. She wasn't entirely sure how she had managed to pull that one off, but there it was._

_He held her gaze a second too long, before almost flinching away, running a tired hand through his hair, "Dinner sounds great, but I'm buying."_

_She felt like a bright red balloon deflating after being pricked by a particularly sharp needle._

_It was painful._

"_Daniel, there's no need. It was my idea, and-"_

"_Betty I'm buying. I think it's long overdue that I buy you dinner, anyway."_

_And as no amount of bargaining would change his mind, Betty was resigned to the fact that he was indeed paying for dinner and that maybe this was a very __bad__ plan._

_**T minus Four Hours**_

"_Seriously Betty, this was all I could find," Christina held the dress up by its hanger, the protective plastic wrapping still hanging loose over it._

"_Everything else was bloody size zero; my thumb wouldn't fit in it let alone an actual human being."_

_Betty gave her a small, albeit grateful, smile as she took the dress from her, "Thanks Christina."_

_Hilda clapped her hands together like an overexcited four year old, "Go on. Try it on."_

_Betty grimaced, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach as she desperately reeled backwards hoping there was a way out, but Christina and Hilda were never going to let her back down now. She was going to have to see this through._

_And so she took the dress and walked into the bathroom – Christina and Hilda's smiles behind her, offering little comfort and doing nothing to ease her nerves . . . _

---

She took the last sip of wine from her glass, her eyes drawn once again to the sneering clock face, taunting her with every minute that went by.

Sat there alone, she thought she could feel the eyes of every person in the restaurant staring at her. Laughing at her.

Her hands folded and unfolded the napkin in front of her of their own accord, keeping busy, self preservation or she'd be ripping her hair out by now with the terror.

It was approaching half eight and she couldn't help but think she was being stood up. Daniel had stood her up. Yet part of her couldn't, _wouldn't,_ believe it. And then that brought with it a sickening panic.

What if something had happened to him? What if he'd been in another car accident? What if, what if . . .

She'd abandoned the disfigured napkin, only to resume a more furious tapping of her fingers against the hard surface of the table. A few heads of nearby customers turned and glared at her in irritation, but Betty was fast reaching full blown panic mode to pay any attention.

"Is there anything else I can get you ma'am while you wait?"

The waiter had appeared beside her again. He had been circling like a vulture for the last forty minutes, just waiting to pounce and give her table to waiting customers. She momentarily thought of going ahead and ordering some food just to spite the man, but her fighting spirit had been ebbing away, slowly but surely, along with her hard fought self-confidence for every second longer she had to sit there, alone.

With a heavy heart and the awful feeling of nothing but numbness as even the panic dissipated, she eyed her empty wine glass, and shook her head, "I think I'll just have my bill please."

The waiter inclined his head, before walking off.

Betty stared morosely after him. He was probably sighing in relief. _Pig._

A few minutes later and Betty found herself pushing open the glass doors of the restaurant and on to the Manhattan streets. The night was cold and she cursed herself for not bringing anything more than the flimsy cardigan she had worn over her dress. She had battled with the urge to ring Daniel, ask him where he was, why he hadn't shown, but she had decided against it, knowing that as soon as she heard the dulcet tones of his voice through the receiver she would no sooner burst into tears and be reduced to a blubbering mess – all of Hilda's hard work undone.

She wouldn't allow herself to cry. Not yet.

She stood on the sidewalks, waiting for one of the yellow monstrosities that were this city's cabs.

What she hadn't expected as she stood there, however, was for a rather large black, very familiar looking car to roll to a stop right beside her.

She stood with her mouth slightly open, attempting to get her breathing back under control and not cry.

Whether it was sweet relief or the entire day's pent up emotion ready to break down that dam, or more likely the culmination of all of those things, she was no longer sure.

But what she did know was this:

He hadn't forgotten her.

**A/N 2**: _Points fingers at the evil __**evil**__ plot bunnies_ They made me do it. Honest. Ok, so I guess its no big surprise as to who _finally _decided to show up – and I'm not happy with him. Nuh uh. He's got some explaining to do . . . Also I hope that this chapter wasn't too hard to follow and understand – I spent ages yesterday trying to get the format right, but I'm not convinced this turned out particularly well.

Please review and share your thoughts. Cheers,

**SmilinStar **

**xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **I know, so the last chapter was very evil of me, and so in thanks for putting up with me and those devious plot bunnies and of course for all those wonderful reviews, I give you this next chapter . . .

**Chapter Eight**

He stood staring at her.

The car door was still wide open, and she was even now half expecting some beautiful blonde glamazon of a model to elegantly slide out after him.

But she never did. In fact, no one had moved. No one had said a word.

He was just staring at her.

The heat from his stare had her blushing under the streetlights, her brain addled so that she couldn't even manage to scream out one angry, "You're late," at him.

The skirt of her dress fluttered around her in the wind – she could feel the fabric brushing against her bare legs. She was so cold, but she was oblivious to it; her skin instead prickling with heat as Daniel's gaze seemed to scour over every exposed stretch of skin, though in truth his eyes had never really once left her face. The deep purple fabric offset her natural olive skin tone, the neck line a modest V-shape with a hint of teasing cleavage on view.

She folded her arms tight across her chest, hugging them to her body almost in a gesture of protecting herself against him. And it was that which snapped Daniel out of his bizarre trance,

"I'm so sorry," he said.

The earnestness in his voice couldn't be denied, and while it may have dampened her anger, she was still upset with him. This wasn't how she had envisaged the night to go.

"You're late," she said, finally getting out the words she should have snapped at him as soon as he had gotten out of the car.

He didn't have a response to that.

Instead he stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking on the heels of his feet, staring at a point just above and beyond her right shoulder.

"Where were you?" she asked, the cold tone of the words sounding alien, almost as if they were leaving the lips of a different person altogether.

He looked back at her, his eyes weary.

"Where's _Jenny_?" Betty asked the intonation and meaning clear.

She'd had a plan. Tease him mercilessly about this phantom woman, never giving away once that she knew the truth, pushing him to his limit, seeing how far he would go before he broke and confessed all.

But she just couldn't do it anymore, and with those two words she blew her own game plan to bits.

He knew she knew.

He sighed, ran a hand over his face, before nodding his head. He reached backwards and shut the car door, his gaze never once leaving her, "We should talk."

Betty couldn't help the wry laugh from leaving her mouth, "I think that's a good idea."

He bit his lower lip, and then awkwardly walked up to her.

Betty turned to face the same direction, and they both took hesitant steps forward, walking side by side, a few meagre centimetres away from brushing up against each other.

Betty resolved she wasn't going to be the first to say something.

This was Daniel's floor, so to speak.

The sidewalk was still bustling with people. People going home late from work, others out for late night shopping, out to eat with friends at one of the many restaurants that lined these roads. It wasn't the ideal place for this conversation, and they both realised it.

Daniel changed direction then, and Betty didn't have to say a word. She knew where he was heading and her heart sped up, breath quickening as the numerous connotations of what such a purposeful manoeuvre meant.

His face was grim. She didn't know what it was. Determination, unease, fear – and it did nothing to settle her own anxiety, mingling with and muting her disappointment, anger and relief.

Maybe it was the anticipation and all consuming thoughts that raged on, round and round in circles in her head, but she could no longer feel the cold of the night on her skin. Instead was the unfamiliar feeling of her entire left side blistering in heat, her right side numb, as Daniel continued to walk beside her on her left. The strange sensation was illogical yet made perfect sense when allowed appropriate scrutiny.

But Betty had no time to ponder such thoughts as their final destination came into a clearer and undisturbed view.

She hadn't realised but they had walked, side by side, silently for now going on ten minutes – and not once had the butterflies in her stomach settled.

There was something magical about this place when the skies turned dark; the starlight, moonlight and streetlights mingling in casting arrays of shade and startling colour. In the day, it was just another representation of the whole host of sometimes impressive, sometimes mundane architecture of the city. At night, it was something else entirely.

Daniel stopped halfway across, turning to rest his hands on the side wall of the bridge, looking out in front of him. The sight screamed déjà vu for the second time in the space of months and Betty had no idea how to interpret it this time.

She knew she had said she wouldn't be the first to break this silence, that she didn't want to make this easy on him, but she found she just couldn't help herself,

"We're eight hours too early aren't we?"

Daniel broke into the barest of smiles.

No it wasn't 5am in the morning, but the meaning was there, as tangible as ever.

She stood beside him, leaning out, looking over their city – glistening with the non stop activity that characterised their world.

"I'm sorry I was late."

Betty couldn't help but laugh as she repeated the word that stuck out like a sore thumb, "late."

He was silent. Mustering up nerve for an explanation, she wasn't sure, but he was certainly intensifying the already charged atmosphere – thick with near suffocating tension.

"I spent an hour circling the block, trying to get my head together, trying to sum up my thoughts into one succinct sentence."

Betty stood deathly still as she listened to him, trying hard not to look up at him, concentrating impossibly hard on that same exact spot in the distance which had Daniel as enraptured as she.

"And it took me just as long to realise that that just isn't possible."

His fingers curled over the ledge – gripping tight.

"Jenny's not real. I made her up. But you already knew that."

She didn't say anything. Even if she did try, no words would come out.

He sighed, extending his arms as he pushed harder, leaning out further.

"You know I considered bringing in someone to play her. Going along with the lie, because it just seemed that much easier. And maybe I would have done it. A year ago, two years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. But I didn't have you then, did I? The voice in my head, telling me that one lie will only lead to another, and before you know it, it's a barely recognisable mess of lies, speeding down hill, obscured and unending, so much so that you no longer know what that one truth, the one you were so desperately trying to hide in the first place, actually was. Lost and tarnished."

He took in a sharp breath, his voice only just steady, as if all his energy and strength was going into every hard fought second;

"But this was one truth I didn't want to lose sight of. It's the one thing I never want to forget."

"Daniel-" the word slipped past her tongue, the cold, biting edge to her words long gone as she realised, finally realised, just how hard this was for him. A man who had been brought up in the eyes of the public, taught to hold everything close to his chest, never showing a moment of weakness that can be preyed upon by the ruthless vultures that were the press. And though Daniel tried valiantly to be all which Bradford Meade would have been proud of, he could never slip behind the mask entirely. Cracks always there, always present – and she loved him for it.

"Betty," the two syllables rolled out of his mouth so easily, "Don't make me tell you what you already know."

He turned to face her now. So serious and yet so devastatingly bare for her to see all.

And she knew.

She knew now for sure, without one iota of doubt, that the words Christina had uttered, what seemed like so many nights ago, were the truth.

He may not have been ready to say it out loud; scream it from rooftops, but inside he was still singing.

Closed off and scarred from previous experience – they were both healing. She from Henry, he from so many people who had disappointed him, time and time again.

He may not have been brave enough to say it now.

But she knew, with no room for uncertainty, that one day he would.

And for now, in this one fleeting moment of time, she was going to have to be brave enough for the both them.

She didn't think about it. Rational thought would have tried to persuade her against it. Instead she went with instinct.

And instinct just so happened to be rallying for her to kiss him.

And so she did.

Reaching up, her lips met his, and a second was all it took for the rest of the world to melt away.

**A/N 2: **It's **not** the end. There's a reason I haven't had Daniel utter those three little words yet, and that's because I intend to hopefully write a few more chapters of this, but, yes, it's very nearly done. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and as always I eat, sleep reviews and would love to know your thoughts. Cheers,

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Wow. The response this fic is having has me flummoxed. Thank you ever so much for the wonderful reviews, you guys rock. I really hope you're still enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. And so without further ado, here's the next instalment . . .

**Chapter Nine**

The words fearless and reckless were seldom used without one another.

But Betty, standing there on that bridge, begged to differ. That was she would, if she ever managed to pry herself away from Daniel's insistent lips, his possessive grip and if she could steal herself away from the dreamlike haze that seemed to envelope and buffer her from distant reality long enough to process that unverifiable sentence.

If she could, she would argue that yes she had been fearless. But reckless? Only time would tell what this one moment of fearlessness would cost her in the long run – be it happiness or heartache, she just knew for now that it had been the right thing to do.

She pulled away from him. He might have groaned in protest, but she could hear nothing but the blood hurtling through her veins.

She held on to him tight, her arms wound round his neck.

He held on to her tight, his hands firmly around her waist, pressing hot against her hips.

She held her face a scant centimetre or two away from his through sheer strength of determination and self control.

She was grinning like a fool.

But that didn't matter.

He was grinning right back at her.

"So . . ."

His eyes were twinkling, the various sources of light around them enhancing the breathtaking phenomenon.

"So . . ." she repeated slowly back at him. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, her eyes just as bright as his.

The second lingered into two, before Daniel waded into the surprisingly comfortable silence with the words;

"I don't know about you but I'm starving – what say you to me, you and some pizza?"

Both their grins grew wider if that were even possible; his grip on her never loosening as he spoke. It wasn't until she nodded, "Sounds good," that his arms dropped from her waist. She momentarily felt the loss of warmth from his hands, but it wasn't for long as he slowly, deliberately wrapped his hand in hers and tugged gently.

She followed.

Side by side. Hand in hand. And the rest of the world was oblivious to their smiles.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

They hadn't uttered a sentence, said a single word about what _this _meant.

Unspoken, but not unfelt, and completely understood.

No words were really needed.

They were in their own blissful bubble and were adamant they were going to enjoy it while they still could. Reality had been dragged off far away, kicking and screaming, but like the little troublesome brat it was, it would be back before they knew it; the calm before the storm was something they could revel in – for now at least.

He had walked her home.

His jacket firmly around her shoulders – he had slipped it on her sometime past midnight as they had strolled through the near empty park.

It smelt of nothing but him – a whiff of his favourite cologne and something that was unmistakeably Daniel. She had made a point of it with words that had fallen out of her mouth rather ungracefully before she'd had a chance to stop them, "Mmm, you smell good."

He had chuckled, as she horrified, blushed profusely at her inability to keep from embarrassing herself.

But that blush soon turned to another sort altogether as Daniel replied with the softly spoken, serious and quite frankly perfect words, "And you, Betty, look beautiful tonight."

She couldn't help but swoon inside – she would have replied with the predictable, over used line, 'you don't look so bad yourself' following it with an internalised and unspoken 'downright edible actually,' but instead she went for;

"Well at least one of us does."

He grinned gloriously, lighting up his entire face before shaking his head and looking down at her with nothing but pure concentrated adoration. It did nothing to diffuse her now permanent blush, her skin tingling everywhere as his intense gaze watched over her.

She found she didn't have the courage to quite meet his eyes yet as they walked a few more paces in silence.

Now content to just soak up the beautiful night, each other's company and each mull that kiss over in their own heads, they continued on for several minutes – each step closer to Betty's home, and to the end of their night.

Part of her didn't want it to end. The irrational thought that tonight had been a figment of her imagination consumed her. The combination of wine and moonlight having created a hauntingly vivid and sensual hallucination – that only in the darkness of the night could seem so perfect, flawless and eternal. It was not an unfounded fear. Reality always seemed to be all that more devastating in the harsh glare of sunlight.

And by the way Daniel seemed to tense up beside her as her house came into view meant she was not the only one who felt it.

But it was something they weren't ready to face yet as they came to a halt and Daniel tellingly opted instead for a different line of conversation;

"So," he started, "Am I forgiven?"

"For what?"

"Oh you know, lying to you about my date, turning up late, getting you to pay for your own wine and then feeding you cheap pizza after nearly standing you up."

Betty shook her head, smiling slowly, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Daniel raised a brow, the edges of his mouth curling up into another smile.

Betty nodded.

"Okay," he took a step closer to her as they stood face to face, Betty's hand resting on the gate beside her, "So what do I have to do to get you to forgive me?"

Maybe it was the way he was looking at her just then; the streetlights bouncing off his face, casting blessed shadows across his profile, making him seem all that more perfect and unreal. Or maybe it was that very fearlessness that appeared to have its hold in every facet of this miraculous night, blending seamlessly with her growing confidence which let the following two words fall out of her mouth so effortlessly;

"Kiss me."

He seemed to take a second too long to process the whispered words, and her courage just moments ago seemed to be falling away the longer he took to respond. But Daniel finally grasped this after his initial surprise had receded, and she was thankful for the resolve she now saw in the blue of his eyes as his face edged forwards.

His nose grazed the soft skin of her cheek before his lips finally slid onto hers – soft gentle and undemanding.

Their first kiss - she had been the one to initiate it. It had been a desperate attempt on her part to tell him that she _understood. _

She hadn't taken the time to savour it.

Now she could.

Slow and teasing. It was just so Daniel, she mused, but that train of thought was lost as Daniel moved even closer, held her tighter, his lips conveying what he had been unable to in spoken words before.

She pressed against him further, afraid her legs would give way but she had nothing to worry about. He was holding her upright and Betty wasn't sure if he'd ever let her go again.

But he did. Slowly, pulling away, he let his forehead rest against hers, their breathing shallow, their expired air intermingling and being breathed in once more with each steadying breath they took.

"We should really talk about this," Betty whispered, though she hated herself for saying the words.

She felt him nod, "We will."

And she was as grateful for the reassurance as she was for the reprieve, "Okay."

He lifted his head from hers to look down and hold her gaze, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded mutely.

He leaned down and placed a fleeting kiss on her forehead and then stepped away to watch her turn around and walk up the small path to her front door.

She stopped once there, gave him a small smile and then disappeared behind the door.

She watched him leave through the curtain, turning and walking away after a moment's hesitation, a hint of his smile still there like an afterimage. His white shirt rippled in the wind, and it was then she realised that though she may have still had his jacket on, he was the one left holding her heart.

There was no room for doubt and it could not be undone. She could only now hope that he had truly left his with her.

**A/N 2: **This was most definitely the hardest chapter to write so far; the angst has a funny way of creeping back in, but I really hope it didn't disappoint anyone. Once again, please leave a review, I would love to know what you thought. Cheers,

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Hugs to everyone reading and a massive thank you to everyone who has left me such wonderful reviews. You guys are truly awesome; I can't quite express it better than that. Enjoy . . .

**Chapter Ten**

She was used to the ever present whispering that went on behind her back. The sneering glances at her supposedly unfashionable attire, the downright disgusted glares at her even walking the corridors of _their_ world and the very palpable horror of sharing the same air as her when stuck in the elevator. She was used to it. And normally she'd breeze through the malicious bitching, ignoring them, head held up high and never letting it get to her.

This morning was a different story.

The added anxiety being heaped on from the previous night probably didn't help. The butterflies had refused to take a damn seat on the many walls of her intestines and the taunting thoughts in her head battered cruelly against the insides of her skull.

_It had been a dream . . ._

_He hadn't meant it . . . _

_Hell, he actually hadn't even said anything . . ._

And so on.

On and on. Relentless.

Bagel and coffee in hand, she walked past Amanda who was sat at reception, restlessly flicking through pages of a magazine. Betty outright ignored her, blindly missing the passing look of indignation and shock at such a slight that crossed the blonde's face. But Betty had been far too busy telling the voices in her head to 'shut the hell up' to notice or care.

She reached her desk and wasn't at all surprised to find Daniel not in yet. She breathed a sigh of relief as she made a mad dash in and out of his office, leaving his steaming coffee and bagel on his desk, and then making her determined way over to the Closet.

She needed help.

Her thoughts were stuck in a chaotic tangle and she could neither free nor grasp them.

She had no idea why she thought Christina would be able to help her, but nevertheless, here she was;

"Christina!" she called out desperately.

She was greeted by the sight of Christina standing in front of a ghastly fluorescent pink piece of fabric, tailor's tape measure hanging around her neck, hacking the said piece of fabric to bits with a certain gusto that could only be attributed to plain disgust.

She stopped to watch, intending to ask her what on earth she was doing, and then decided against it.

"Christina!" she called again.

And this time her ninety five percent of the time insane Scottish best friend finally heard her.

"Betty!" she screamed, dropping her scissors, running forward to grab her hand and drag her towards some chairs. She quite literally pulled her down beside her.

"Spill," she said, unable to contain herself any longer, rabid with the excitement, "Go on, what happened?"

Betty wasn't sure where to begin; she just knew this whole situation seemed awfully familiar.

"Are you sure you and I weren't swapped at birth?"

Christina opened her mouth, and stared – it was a pretty mean impression of a goldfish, Betty had to give her that much.

"What?"

"You and Hilda, you're both the same. Maybe you're actually sisters and I'm just . . ."

Christina waved off whatever she was trying to say, far too impatient to indulge Betty's meandering thoughts, "So are you gonna tell me or not?"

Betty thought it was best to maybe just get straight to the point. She didn't have enough energy to recount the entire night, well not with the level of detail it really deserved; and so she just blurted out the two words which really spoke for themselves:

"We kissed."

Christina's response wasn't quite the same as Hilda's though. Instead of the several 'Oh my god's' she had been treated to by her sister, Christina had opted for, "Well thank god for that!"

Betty frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I mean can you imagine if I'd been wrong?"

That had been the worst possible thing to say as Betty stared at her, wide eyed, mouth hanging hideously open.

Christina frantically back-pedalled, cursing her gift for uninvitingly opening her trap at the most inappropriate of times.

"Not that I thought I'd be wrong. Or that it would go wrong . . ."

Betty took in a deep, heaving breath.

"So what did he say?" Christina asked, changing the conversation swiftly, allowing herself little time to dig her grave that bit deeper.

Betty wasn't sure how to answer that question either.

After the miasma of euphoria and joy had dissipated overhead she was only to be left with miserable doubt.

He had said they would talk about it.

And she trusted him and his word.

But she couldn't help think he would turn around and tell her it was a mistake. That nothing could actually come of it. And if he told her that, then she wouldn't know what to do.

It was clearly irrational. Deep down she knew Daniel was not capable of hurting her like that – not intentionally.

But the deep seated fear remained and it had caused her an endless, restless night full of fitful tossing and turning.

"Nothing," she answered Christina truthfully – because in all honesty, Daniel had not admitted a thing.

Christina was pensive, and though it lasted a sum total of two seconds, it was still long enough to be disconcerting.

"Well, Daniel's a more 'actions speak louder than words' kind of guy."

Betty smiled.

_True._

There was a reason she had come to Christina, after all.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

On returning back to her desk, she found her nerves had all but abandoned her as she took in the sight of one Daniel Meade pacing the floor of his office; hands running back and forth furiously through his hair, messing it up beyond all recognition, and several top buttons of his shirt undone as he continued his agitated moments. It was damn cute, is what it was, and a small smile rose unbidden from within her as she took him in.

All her previous worries seemed like a distant nightmare as she stood in his doorway and watched as he sensed her presence in mere seconds and quite literally spun 180 degrees on the spot to face her – a huge, relieved grin spread wide across his face, sparkling out through every fleck of blue in his eyes.

"There you are!" he quite literally burst forward, making a completely innocent and subconscious move to grab her by the waist.

But he never made that last stretch of contact.

She didn't know why she had done it. But she had. She had taken a step back from him. And it was too late to undo.

The grin vanished from his face. The sparkle in his eyes dulled away, only to be replaced with confusion and a twin hurt that seemed to rip through her as she realised the stupidity of her movement.

He looked behind her – seemingly noticing the several members of Mode staff, milling about, too caught up in their work to even notice their boss and his quirky assistant in what would otherwise seem a normal day to day encounter between the two.

Except it wasn't.

It was anything but normal.

"Daniel-"

But he cut her off before she could explain, "Its ok, Betty. I get it. You don't want people knowing about us. I get it, and its fine."

She shook her head, "Daniel we should really talk about this. Last night . . ."

She drifted off, not really sure how to continue that particular line. So many words, thoughts and feelings could do to sufficiently describe the previous night, but in starkly painted reality, there were _none whatsoever._

And then something hit her. Striking a chord, resonating in her ears, "Us. You said _us."_

It was the most glorious sight she had ever seen. The slowest, _shiest _little smile graced his lips as he whispered the words, "Yes I did."

"You and me?" Betty said, her breathing far too erratic now to attempt to return it back near even vaguely normal, "Really?"

"I know I'm not perfect Betty. And I know I can't make you any promises that this will work, but I think we can do this. You and me. We can do this. But only if you want to."

She was quiet.

Silent as a mouse on the outside, but inside, her heart was screaming at her to say four little words at him: 'I do want to,' was all she needed to say. But it was her head that would win this particular round.

"What about them?" she said.

'Them' needed no clarification. He knew what she had meant. It had been why she had stepped back away from him just moments ago.

"I don't care about them." He spoke the words with such resolve – she had no choice but to believe him and concede, that maybe in all actuality, Daniel was in fact a words _and _actions kind of guy. And she had no problems with that - none at all.

"Really?" she whispered, teetering on the edge.

He took in a small breath.

This would be their test, she would realise later, but in that moment she had no idea how much was resting on her.

He took another slow step forward.

And this time she hadn't moved a muscle.

A tangible relief seemed to ripple through him as he cupped her cheek with his hand, gently brushing a stray, wayward strand of hair off her face with his thumb. He ducked his head ever so slightly to meet her eyes as she looked up at him and whispered the word "really."

"Okay," she smiled.

"Okay," he repeated back at her, before leaning down to once again capture her lips. A contact she now realised she could no longer do without.

And here in this room, in this building, in _this_ world, it seemed to be the most natural, logical progression of their story. One that needed no further justification.

There was a shriek in the far distance.

It could have been Amanda, but neither one of them really cared.

**A/N 2: **So I tried feeding a little bit of angst back into this, but the Plot Bunnies are a little too excited because it's spring and there are daffodils in my garden, and so they're having none of it. Fluff it is, I'm afraid. Damn things have made me a sap. There are two (but don't hold me to that) more chapters left. But for now, hope you guys enjoyed it and please leave a review sharing your thoughts. Cheers,

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed. You guys are why I'm battling on with this little fic, and so quite simply put: you rock! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter Eleven**

She stared at the newspaper.

There it lay on the table, open on page six.

A black and white, pixellated and out of focus picture of herself and Daniel leaving a restaurant together stared back at her.

The black bold letters read,

**Just How Much Longer Will The Farce Last?**

The press seemed to revel in making a mockery of their relationship. It had been at its worst when the juicy piece of gossip had first leaked into the media. Daniel had his suspicions, and Betty had hers as to who had squealed; but then they hadn't done much themselves to hide their burgeoning romantic relationship.

It was hurtful.

For someone so notoriously private, entirely unused to attention of any sort let alone being shoved under the public spotlight, to suddenly having her face spread across the tabloids, ridiculing her and calling her every despicable name under the sun, could only be described as a colossal shock. She'd been left so winded; she had very nearly broken off their relationship.

But Daniel wouldn't let her.

They were going to do this. _Together, _he had said.

And three months on - they were still here. Still surviving.

She folded up the newspaper and threw it into the recycling heap.

It seemed Amanda had missed one.

It was bizarre, and to almost everyone else but her, it made utterly no sense.

Just exactly why would Amanda go out of her way to hide every single nasty article about her and Daniel, do her subtle utmost to make sure Betty no longer had to see any of it? One could easily assume that Daniel had threatened her with her job and hence forgoing any rights she may have had to any of the no longer needed or wanted Prada goodies in the Closet. After all, Prada was still Prada.

But Betty knew better than that.

Amanda, underneath the make up and attitude, was a good person. One who loved Daniel, and probably always would. She was happy, if he was happy; not that she had ever admitted to such a thing, and not that she ever would.

But Betty knew. It was something that didn't have to be said, and as she looked up from the pile of old newspapers, she caught Amanda's gaze and gave her a small smile.

Amanda sneered back at her.

Betty grinned.

Things hadn't really changed at all.

"What are you grinning at?"

Apart from that, of course.

"You've got your shirt on inside out," she said, schooling her face into a mask of complete seriousness as she watched him leave his office, jacket in hand.

"What?" Daniel asked, panicking and frantically looking down at what he was wearing.

Her lips broke into another smile.

He looked up at her, tilting his head slightly, "Very funny."

"So where are you going?" she asked, rounding her desk and stopping in front of him; her hands reaching up and straightening his sloppy tie.

"I have a meeting with Alexis, something about budgeting," he answered her while pulling his jacket on and feigning an expression of boredom, "then I have to go meet mom. I haven't got a clue what about, but anyway . . ." he drifted off, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Are we still on for tonight?"

Betty gave him a wide toothy grin, "Yep."

"That's good to hear. Though please, for the sake of my sanity and seriously under question manhood, can you pick something other than _Dirty Dancing _or _Sleepless in Seattle? _I don't think my reputation can take anymore chick flicks."

"You know, if you need me to, I can vouch for your manhood . . ." Betty smiled up at him, all calculated double entendre and mischief.

Daniel raised his brows, an 'oh really?' expression mastered to perfection.

"Well, what about _Pretty Woman_?" Betty asked, her eyes wide, shining now with forged innocence, the chocolate flecks laughing with undisguised glee.

He rolled his eyes, before leaning down and capturing her lips for a short few seconds, "You are gonna be the death of me."

She gave him a small laugh, before reaching up on tiptoes to return the gesture. After pulling away from the quick kiss, she quite literally pushed him out the door, "Go on. Get."

He chuckled but followed through on the orders.

She shook her head at his retreating back.

The papers could say what they wanted. Believe what they wanted.

But more fool them for doing so.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

It was a quarter past eleven.

It was pitch black, all excepting the bright lights that shone out from the television screen, casting odd shadows around the room and lighting everything in its vicinity with an eerie bluish tinge.

"Next time, I'm bringing _Pretty Woman._ I don't care what you say, but I'm never watching anything like that ever again."

She felt the rumble of his laugh in her hair, against her cheek, as she sat there; practically sitting on top of him, cutting off circulation in his arm as she gripped it tight and quivered against him in sheer terror.

"Betty it wasn't _that_ scary."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Ow," he moaned, "Ok so it was a little scary."

She smiled, mollified; gently loosening her grip on the arm he had slung over her shoulder, her hand slipping down to entwine and interlock with his hand. She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a slow, deep breath.

It had been a breath of unadulterated contentment. The world outside their window forgotten, the media and Mode a distant thought.

It was just them. And it was perfect.

Daniel smiled into her hair, planting a soft kiss on her head as she snuggled further against him.

He reached out with his free arm to grab hold of the remote and switch off the TV. The red standby light flickered, once, twice before holding steady.

"How was your meeting with Alexis?" Betty asked, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Daniel sighed, "Dull."

"Are the advertisers sorted for April's issue?"

"Yep."

"How's your mom?"

"Good."

"Dad wants you to come over to ours for dinner next weekend."

"Ok."

"And Hilda said she wants to try dyeing my hair green, and see if it'll look good on me."

"Cool."

Betty punched him for a second time on the shoulder.

He looked down at her, confused, "Not cool?"

She looked up at him, her eyes reaching just past his chin, "You want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"

Daniel tried his best to simulate a dismissive, "Nothing," knowing full well Betty would have none of it.

And true to herself, Betty pushed up from her position, straightening and turning her head so that they were both now face to face. The streetlights were seeping in through the gaps of the drawn curtains, enough light to make each other out in the darkness. She held his gaze; his blue eyes unmistakeably bright.

"Daniel-"

She didn't know what else to say, she knew he knew just what exactly she was trying to say, and so she never really needed to utter another word.

Their unspoken communication was just one of the many features of their undeniable bond.

He sighed again, his fingers reaching up and tangling in her hair.

The gentle movements enough to slowly lull her to sleep.

"I was thinking about something mom had said today."

"And what was that?"

He shook his head, the tiniest smile gracing his lips, "Just something about dad. Their time together. The things she wished she could take back. Her regrets. It was mostly the champagne talking," he added with a wry grin.

She was quiet, as she gently squeezed his hand in comfort.

Again no words were needed.

"It just got me thinking." The smile had now left his lips.

She continued to say nothing, waiting for him to speak only when he was ready.

"I don't want to have the same regrets. I don't want to wake up an old man, alone and knowing I could have done something about those regrets, but had just never been brave enough to face them."

He was quiet again; trying to pull his thoughts together.

"Betty-" he whispered after a moment, a newfound resolve crackling to life as he shifted his whole body so that he could face her properly; his other hand releasing hers and lifting up to join his other in cradling her face.

His hands were warm, his breath the same as it caressed the skin of her face.

His eyes were alive with brilliant, sparking blue – emotion pouring out of every speckle of colour in his irises, out of every word that left his mouth, and radiating off him in tidal waves, enveloping and crushing her to him.

"I realised there's something I still haven't told you."

She knew. It didn't have to be said, but Daniel was determined; his finger dropping to her lips, silencing her.

"It's something I should have told you so long ago. Even months before we happened. So much time wasted, time we can't get back."

"Daniel-" she tried again, her voice a comforting beacon. He was still raw from so many things; his dad perhaps remaining the most vivid of each and every one of those cuts and bruises.

"I love you Betty Suarez."

No more really needed to be said, but he continued on.

Filled with a brazen courage, lighting up every dormant ember of falsely thought to be extinguished fire within him, he continued on;

"I'm in love with you. I can't ever remember not being in love with you. And I don't want to."

And through the tears she smiled, leaping forward and crushing him in a hug so fierce it felt as if they had melded into one. And in many ways they had.

"I love you so much," she whispered back.

And he laughed; a wet, broken laugh of joy.

And she could only smile and whisper an unheard thank you to that one drunken night.

The catapult that had thrown them here.

The notion of love needing no further proof than the arms of this man, here, wrapped around her tight and never letting go.

**A/N 2: **Again, I'll shamelessly plea for you to leave me a review. I love hearing your thoughts – good, bad – I'm not fussed, it's just good to know you guys are still reading. There is only one more chapter of this left, which I'll put up as soon as I can. Thanks again for reading,

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


	12. Epilogue

**Hypotheses of the Unverifiable Kind**

**Disclaimer: **Ugly Betty does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own personal, obsessive needs . . .

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Daniel/Betty

**Summary: **'Exactly what were you supposed to do when you found out your boss may just be head over heels for you? Prove it, of course.' Hopelessly Daniel and Betty . . .

**Author's Note: **So here it is folks, the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it . . .

**Epilogue**

Nine Months Later

"This is a bad idea. Why did I even let you persuade me into doing this tonight?"

"Oh come on, Betty," Christina grinned, ear to ear, "It's only a couple of drinks."

Betty snorted – not that it could be heard, the thumping base of the music and the raucous drunken laughter inhabiting every inch of the floor space of the club, masking the sound well.

"And anyway," Christina said, placing her arm firmly around Betty's shoulders, "It's not as if you had anything better to do."

Betty attempted to glare at her friend, not liking to be reminded of that little fact. But it was a redundant move; Christina had spotted her prey for the evening, and all her attention was now focussed entirely on him.

"Ooh, he's gorgeous."

Betty rolled her eyes, "And gay."

The point was only demonstrated a second later as the dark haired stunner was whisked away by another stunner; a most definitely male, stunner. There may have been a collective sigh in the club as all female hopes were crushed along with Christina's.

"Bugger," Christina muttered, "That is just so bloody typical. All the gorgeous men are either married, gay, sociopaths or all three."

Betty gave her a long hard stare, before shaking her head. She must have understood her wrong. After all, it wasn't so hard a feat considering the thick Scottish accent added to the already drunken slur to her words. She had sneaked a flask of whisky into the cab with her. Somehow, it wasn't all that shocking.

"I need a drink."

Betty sighed, hopelessly following after her friend. Someone needed to watch out for her. Goodness knew what kind of situation Christina would get herself into otherwise. Frankly, Betty didn't want to know, but she followed nevertheless.

And anyway, Christina was right.

As it was, she didn't have anything better to do.

She sat on the stool next to Christina at the bar, blindly ignoring the one too many shots of vodka Christina gulped down; her thoughts much to occupied with a certain blue eyed Editor-in-Chief that she was hopelessly, futilely, head over heels in love with.

Sometimes she'd have to pinch herself and just check for the thousandth time that day that she wasn't dreaming. Of course, she'd wake up every morning, roll over and see his beautiful sleeping face on the pillow next to her, and pinch _him_ instead just to make sure _he _was real, and she wasn't losing her mind.

He'd off course wake up with a yelp. Grumble at her for no longer than 30 seconds before she'd whisper in her small voice, "I was just checking you were real."

Then he'd give her a husky laugh, a by-product of still being half asleep, which of course never failed to simultaneously send glorious shivers down her spine. It was becoming a little bit of a morning routine, and Daniel didn't mind so much because he usually spent the next half hour proving just how _real_ he was.

She blushed a little at the thought, though it could easily have been pegged down to the sticky heat of the club.

But damn Christina, even in her drunken state, managed to pick up on it.

"So where's Daniel tonight? I thought you two would be going at it like . . . like . . ." It seemed there was a limit to Christina's lucidity.

"He said he had something to take care of."

"Ooh, that doesn't sound good," Christina supplied helpfully.

Betty glared at her again, snapping, "Thanks Christina."

"Oh Betty, Daniel would never cheat on you."

"I never said anything about cheating," Betty said, slow and low.

"Oh, I know that, and I _know_ _you_ Betty; you and your damn insecurities."

She would have been affronted, had it not been slightly true. She did pinch the man awake every morning, after all.

"He's just been a little edgy these last couple of weeks. It's like he's hiding something."

Christina was suspiciously quiet.

And Betty had noticed.

"Christina," she started.

She was positive she'd seen her friend curse under her breath, only cementing her suspicions further.

"It's probably nothing," Christina said much too fast, "He's probably just got too much to deal with, you know, the magazine, Alexis – he doesn't want to worry you. You know you are _so_ lucky. I wish I could find a man just like him. You know, someone who is gorgeous, not married, not gay and not a sociopath. It's just so bloody impossible. I mean, the other day, right, there was this bloke who was really sweet, but I was drunk and it turned out he was at least. . ." the rest of the sentence fizzled away. Her long nervous ramble only met by Betty's cold stony silence and a glare that had frozen her solid to the spot, her mouth open with a perfect 'oh shit' expression.

"Fifty," she finished.

Betty sat a little straighter, her voice steady, "Christina, spill."

She was silent for two seconds, before finally sighing in exasperation, "Oh alright woman. If you want to spoil the surprise for yourself – be my guest!"

"Christina," Betty huffed, irritation settling in for the long haul, "What are you talking about?"

"He's going to ask you to marry him, Betty."

Betty obviously hadn't heard her right. It was that damn accent again.

"What?"

"I said he's going to ask you to marry him Betty."

That's what she'd thought the first time.

She laughed. Gulped down the rest of her drink, and then laughed again, "Ha ha, very funny."

"Oh come on, Betty," Christina sighed, "His shady behaviour these last couple of weeks? It's all because he's out planning and fretting for the proposal. The poor sod's so scared, he's rushing in and out of the men's every fifteen minutes almost as if he's having a sympathetic pregnancy," and then almost as if a light bulb had gone off in her head, she added cautiously, "You're not pregnant are you? You know that would actually explain it all . . ."

"No! No, I'm not pregnant!" Betty snapped.

"Oh, well, that's good."

"Christina, Daniel is not going to propose. After Sofia, I doubt he ever wants to go through that all again."

"Ah, but you're not Sofia, are you Betty? He actually loves you."

Christina shifted in her seat, "Look, all the signs are there, you just haven't seen them." Another pause was followed with, "Seriously Betty, I think you should really get some new glasses."

And that was followed by an, "Ooh, would you look at _him_."

"Christina!"

But it was a lost cause. Christina was already climbing her way off the stool and staggering her way over to some random guy. Betty wasn't even sure which as she heard the last tail of her friend's mutterings, "Please, don't let him be gay. Not another one."

And so she was left there.

Sat on a stool.

In some random bar.

With one unanswered question wreaking havoc in her head.

Another familiar overpowering need to strangle Christina senseless.

And one last muttered thought; "Not again . . ."

**The End**

**A/N 2: **_Cowers in the corner - _you guys are gonna ask for a sequel now aren't you? Well the story's kind of come full circle and I'm not really sure about writing a sequel. As much of a blast as it has been writing this, I think this is the best place to end it. I'm currently working on another Daniel/Betty one shot, which is about half way done, and I'll be putting that up soon (if you're interested), but really all that's left for me to say is _thank you. _Thank you to each and every one of you who have read, and most especially, taken the time to leave me a review and share your thoughts. They were truly appreciated and I'm thrilled at the response this fic has had. So thank you.

I'll leave you again with one last plea to let me know what you thought of this final chapter, cheers.

Over and out,

**SmilinStar**

**xxx**


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